Whistle
by Be A Llama
Summary: How did our Greasers come about using their whistle? This is basically the origin of the famous greaser whistle. Third person POV. Con-Crit welcome.


**Whistle**

--

Note: Sometimes I refer to Darry Junior as "Junior" to avoid confusion between his father and himself.

--

"Yeah, that's it, Junior. You got it. As soon as you see that it's clear to shoot, just go for it."

Darrel Senior eased him arms away from around his son.

"I-I'm so nervous, Dad."

Darry Senior chuckled. "I know, son. I remember when I shot my very first deer, with _my _father. It's normal to feel scared."

Darry Junior sighed. "Now what, Dad?"

"Now we wait."

--

Darry Junior got bored of sitting there. Fast. To pass the time he reflected on this morning. The two Darrys had gotten up at four in the morning (well, it Mr Curtis had to practically drag Darry Jr out of bed) and had eaten a brief breakfast before trooping into the truck.

The trip to Summer Springs Ranges had taken two hours and a half, but to Darry it had seemed like _forever. _Soon the excitement had worn off and boredom took over.

Darry knew he was annoying when he kept asking his father, "Are we there yet?" yet Darry Senior had been suprisingly patient with his eleven year old son.

One thing Darry Junior _did _enjoy about the trip up, however, was the scenery. As they approached Summer Springs, Darry noticed the change almost right away. The old, wooden, lonely buildings and several acres of farmland had been replaced with lush emerald green trees. Junior swore that he could hear water running.

"Isn't it beautiful?" his father had asked as they got closer. "I've always loved coming here, you know. The beautiful trees, the clean air, the birds, but I've always loved the spring more than anything else. They say that there's gold in that spring, but I don't think anyone has ever found any to prove it right."

Darry Junior listened to his father, impressed. "It _is _beautiful, Dad," he replied, awestruck. Darry didn't want to say anymore. He was afraid that talking would ruin the beautiful air of this place that his father had taken him to.

--

"I still don't see anything," Darry Junior said aloud, trying not to sound like he was whining.

Darry Senior chuckled. "These things take time, my boy. We could be here all day, or the deer could show themselves in the next ten minutes. Don't worry, we have plenty of time."

Junior sighed, and slumped ever so slightly. He still wanted to be alert incase he saw a deer.

"Did I ever tell you that my father took me here when I was eleven?"

"Only about a million times," Darry Junior replied, grinning.

"I always thought that this place was the most beautiful place on earth, I still do. I can't believe that the old lodge is still standing after this long."

Darry Junior stroked the top of his rifle as he listened to his father.

"When my father told me it was time to go, I didn't want to leave. When I did, though, the first thing I did was promise myself that when my first son was eleven, I'd bring him up here. Before I went to sleep, that is."

At the mention of sleep, Junior yawned. He was still so tired from waking up early, and his father's talking wasn't helping him none.

"Careful there, Sport. You don't want to be asleep when the deer come. Or worse, you could accidently pull the trigger if you aren't paying attention, and it could hurt somebody."

Junior automatically sat up, trying to prove to his father that he was alert enough to do this. He wanted his father to be proud of him.

After a minute or two, Darry let himself slouch again. How his father managed to stay sitting up straight he did not know.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Squirt?"

"How old were you when you got your first girlfriend?"

Darry Snr. coughed. "Why's that?"

Junior blushed. "Well.. um... you see.. there's this one girl.."

Darry Senior grinned.

"I r-really like her and I wanna ask her out," Darry blurted sheepishly.

Darrel Snr.'s grin widened. "What's her name, son?"

Darry Junior blushed, something he rarely did. "Madison."

His father chuckled, and stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Darry asked his father. Mr Curtis motioned for his son to be quiet.

"What?" Darry whispered as his father walked over to him.

"Look," his father whispered as he pointed out into the green.

There, casually chewing on a bit of something Darry Junior couldn't see, was a deer. It wasn't very big, but it wasn't small, either. Darry guessed that it was eleven, like him. Not too young, not too old.

"Here's your chance, Junior," Darrel said to his son as Junior lifted the rifle.

"When, Dad, when?" Darry whispered frantically, trying to get the rifle in just the right position.

Mr Curtis didn't say anything. His son would know. He knew it.

Something inside Darrel Junior took over him. He aimed the rifle at the deer, and before he knew it, a gun shot had gone off.

Darry Junior stared at his rifle for a minute. Had it really been him that had shot at the deer? His gun that had killed it? _Him _that pulled the trigger?

Junior suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a low whistle. Confused, he listened as it suddenly went high, and then stopped. He looked at his father.

"Dad, what was that?"

Darrel Senior grinned. "It's been so long since I've done that!"

Darry waited for his father to explain.

"The whistle I just did? It's something me, my dad and my brothers used to do everytime we got a deer. We always thought of it as a sign of power, like _we _were the ones in charge. Come on, Squirt, try it."

Darrel Junior remembered that it started off low and ended in a high note.

Darry Senior grinned with pride. "That's my boy! Come on now, let's go 'nd get it."

Darry Junior followed his father into the green where the deer was lying on it's side. It wasn't moving.

Darry couldn't bare to look at it. The gun shot wound was coming out of the wound like water, and that scared him.

"You alright there, son?" Mr Curtis asked gently as he got out a rag and began cleaning up the blood. Darry felt like puking at what his father was doing.

"I think I'm gonna be-" Darry didn't reach the end of the sentence before he lost his breakfast.

Mr Curtis patted his son on the back as he heaved, and when he was done he handed his son a clean rag.

"Better?"

Darry Junior nodded.

Darry Senior picked up the deer by the hind legs and front ones and held it around his neck.

"Come on, Junior. As soon as we load this one here onto the truck, we'll go back to the lodge and get a drink. How does that sound?"

Darry Junior smiled briefly as he walked alongside his father.

Mr Curtis smiled down at his son. "You did good today, kid. You did good."

--

"This is the second time this week, man!" Dallas Winston snarled, lighting up a cigarette.

"I know it is, Dal! How could you guys be so... blind? Why are you guys even doing those kinda jobs, anyway?" Sodapop Curtis replied. "Oh, and Dal? Don't stub that thing out on the carpet, Darry'll have a fit."

"We gotta earn an honest livin' too, ya know! Some of us don't have a fancy job at a petrol station like _some _people," Two-Bit replied defensively.

Steve laughed. "Honest? Man, if this is your idea of honest, I'd hate to see what you think the opposite is."

Darry snickered from his bedroom. He was sitting on his bed, lacing up his boots. The guys had obviously forgotten how paper-thin the walls really were.

From what the guys had told him, Two-Bit and Dally were doing some kind of deal for Brett Johnston, the unofficial leader of the Brumly Boys, which happened to involve money, smokes, and drugs..

"We need some kind of signal, man. If those fuckin' Socs get their hands on any of the shit, we're dead men," Darry heard Dallas say.

Darry stood up, and walked into the living room. Dallas made it a point to show Darry that he was using an ash tray to put out his cigarette. He rolled his eyes and sat on the couch next to Soda.

"Hey Soda, remember when Dad used to take me, you and Pony hunting in the ranges?"

"Yeah.."

"Remember the power whistle?"

"The powe- oh! Great idea, Dare!"

"Would anyone mind telling us what the hell you're talkin' about?" Two-Bit asked impatiently.

"When we used to go huntin', Dad and Darry would always whistle whenever we killed a deer," Soda explained.

"That's gross. Poor deer," Steve said, holding back a grin.

Soda rolled his eyes and grinned. "That ain't the point. We could use the whistle to tell each other if we're grease or not.. you know, as kinda a tribute to Dad."

Everyone was silent.

"Alright," Dally said after a minute, "teach us this whistle, then."


End file.
